My Risky Business
by KeepingTogether
Summary: -AU- Being a private investigator is a big challenge. So what if my two biggest clients were a known mobster and ten-year-old kid - business was business.
1. Seriously?

****Disclaimer: ****I do not own Avenger or any of its characters.

**CHAPTER 1**

Okay, so maybe my father was right. Being a private investigator can be a little dangerous.

I stared up at the mountain of flesh in front of me – six feet four, three hundred seventy pounds of masculine flab, and all of it quivering in a drunken rage. Another time I might have been fascinated by that rippling effect, but at the moment I was mesmerized by the enormous knife he was waving in one meaty hand. The only thing standing between the two of us was a rusting old porch swing, and that was one wicked-looking knife.

George McGonagall was his name, and he was not dressed unless you count a pair of grungy boxer shorts with – so help me God – blue and green rabbits against an angry orange background. I did not want to count those shorts. Heck, I did not event want to think about those shorts, ever.

"I tole that bitch once," he slurred, his glazed piggy eyes unblinking, "tole that bitch twice. She ain't gonna get that bowl back unless she comes here and asks me nice. You got that?"

Oh, yes. I get that. I could not miss that for the world. That words came accompanied by beer fumes mixed with the sour odor of unwashed flesh. And to reinforce the smell, Lake Erie sent a tepid puff of wind blowing in my direction.

It was not a real breeze but enough to stir the stench of traffic fumes, stale food and a whole host of other smells best not to specifically identify. I began breathing through my mouth while urging the contents of my stomach to stay with me a little longer. This was not the time for rebellion.

Keeping the porch swing between him and me, I edged closer to the steps and freedom.

"I will assure you, that I will pass on your message, Mr. McGonagall."

My tennis shoe found the top step, and I backed down as quickly as humanly possible without taking my eyes off the hand waving the knife. It was broad daylight. Where were all the nosy neighbors? People around here called the police over dogs pooping on their browned-out lawns.

Not that I was anxious to deal with the police right now but I did want out of here without bloodshed – especially mine. Susie McGonagall had hired me to obtain proof that her soon-to-be-ex-husband had physical possession of a hideously large silver-plated loving cup that had once belong to her late grandmother. I had managed to snap several photographs of said loving cup through the open living room window before Mr. McGonagall realized I was standing on his porch. If I had not been greedy and tried for the final photo, he had never noticed my hand sticking in through his windows.

Someone else had put that large hole in his screen, not me. Given the way it was ripped and the knife he was holding, I had hazard a guess that Mr. McGonagall himself had something to do with the torn screen. He seemed to like the idea of putting holes in things – or people.

"You do that," he yelled, menacing me with the long, hairy arm clutching the knife. "You tell that worthless little bitch she can crawl back here on her hands and knees if she wants the damn thing. You tell her that."

He swayed dangerously in my direction.

"Of course, I will inform her that."

I felt the cracked and broken sidewalk under my foot. Turning, I sprinted across the yellowed grass with more speed than I would have thought possible in this heat. The August sun was blistering more than just the city streets around Cleveland, Ohio, this afternoon.

Sleipnir, my ancient VW Bug, started with a grinding noise. I'm quite certain he was not supposed to make. For once I was not concerned about his health. My health was far more important. I left four feet of precious tire tread pealing away from the curb, but at least I made my escape without any new body piercings.

In the rearview mirror I saw Mr. McGonagall standing on the sidewalk scratching his considerably rounded belly while shouting curses in my wake. A scruffy-looking white poodle trotting down that same sidewalk prudently crossed the street to avoid him.

It was sort of sad to think that poodle was a whole lot smarter than I was.

The one good thing about returning to my office was that it was blessedly air-conditioned. Sadly Sleipnir was not, and I could not afford a car that was. Sitting back carefully, I gazed around the converted closet and sighed with relief.

Okay, it was not really a closet. The space had always been a tiny office, well, not my office. It was actually the office that came with my dear friend Natasha's sweet flower shop. I work for her and her partner when I'm not on a case. Unfortunately that is a little too often for comfort.

Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton have owned and operated Flower World for longer than I have been here, which is to say more than twenty years. Their shop is in a building on the corner of Detroit Avenue, down the street from the hospital.

Not exactly the high-rent district, but as Natasha is fond of pointing out, it is a perfect location for a flower shop. It is not a bad location for me, either. The price is certainly right.

I tried living in New York City after I graduated college and earned my investigator's license, but working for an established firm meant I spent most of my time in front of a computer screen running background checks and fetching coffee for the senior partners. Of course, I do more of that here as well, however Barton and Natasha are much pleasant to be around and the background check are for my clients.

Not that I'm exactly buried in cases in this quiet Cleveland suburb, but I grew up in this area. I know people here, and word of mouth is important for a private investigator starting out. Overall I have been doing fine – or I was until Thor Odinson set up shop across the bridge in Rocky River a few weeks ago.

He has an influential background, which is the son of the infamous Investigator Odin, so naturally he is getting all the really good cases. Already his name has made the local papers – twice! The first time was when he unfairly got credit for breaking up a stolen-car ring. The second time was when he located Mayor Fury's missing sculpture. That one really ticked me off.

The car ring had been fluke. Odinson caught the guy trying to steal his car, and because the little twerp wanted to cut a deal with the district attorney, he talked his head off, cracking the ring wide open.

As for the missing sculpture, that turned out to be nothing more than a high school prank. I could have figured that one out in half the time. Natasha and Clint have a communications network that would make Homeland Security envious, and I mean, who else in their right mind would take such an ugly piece of glass and metal?

What really stuck in my craw was that the mayor hired Odinson when he lives doors down from my brother and his family!

Thor Odinson is not even a native Ohioan. He grew up in Pittsburgh, for crying out loud! I know it is petty, but I could not help wishing he had stayed there. Why did he have to come and set up shop on my turf?

I finished downloading the pictures of Mr. McGonagall in his oversize recliner watching a wrestling match while tossing peanuts at the loving cup, and sent them to print. Susie McGonagall would be happy, and I was comforted knowing she was a good for my fee. After all, her dad is a vice president with the local bank where my family has done business for years.

"Hey Loki," Natasha interrupted from the doorway. "Would you have time to finish the Martak arrangement for me? I have a dentist appointment in thirty minutes, and Clint went home to check on Clem."

Clem is the parrot Barton inherited from her mother. I suspect her mother inherited it from her grandmother, who probably got it from her mother. No one seems willing to guess exactly how old that bird is, but from some of the phrases he knows, I suspect he once traveled with pirates. He is aggressive and he knows more swearwords than a drunken sailor.

"No problem, Tash. I can finish the arrangement right now." Leaning forward carefully, I stood up. There were times when the swivel chair seemed to have a mind of its own. "I'm finished working until tonight."

"Oh. You took Thanos case then?"

Natasha could convey a lot of emotion in a few short words. She was in accord with the rest of my family when it came to my career choice, stating that it would not suit me, better be a physician where in you can use your brain than your brawn.

"Really, Lok, I don't see why a handsome young man like you want to spend your nights outside some sleazy motel room taking pictures."

"I'm not fond of divorce work either, Tash, but it pays the bills."

Tonight would not be the first time I had been asked to follow someone around and take pictures of the people they met. However it was the first time I was working for a client who made me nervous.

Mr. Thanos is considered by many to be a successful business entrepreneur. He is well connected down at city hall, but according to one of Barton's sources, if Thanos does not work for organized crime, he has all the right connections. Tall, thin, balding, he looks more like an accountant than someone who owns a string of nightclubs and pricey restaurants and he has the coldest, most disturbing eyes I have ever seen.

I tried to shrug nonchalantly at the worry underscoring my friend's tone. "I cannot afford to turn down a paying client."

A frown creased her forehead. Natasha Romanoff has a beautiful features and gorgeous peaches-and-cream skin. Her short hair is a pretty shade of red and it absolutely suits her. She can be a great girlfriend. However, it will be against my better judgment. Natasha is a good friend, and a good friend should be cherish and cared. I do not want to ruin our friends due to that; beside she is dating Barton now, so it is better that way. Also, I dated both gender, I can easily find someone to entertain me.

"I don't know what your mother would think of you skulking about in bushes and associating with known criminals," she said with genteel scowl.

"First of all, I do not skulk in bushes." At least, not very often. "And second, no one has ever proved Mr. Thanos is a criminal."

"Perhaps, but your mother is probably rolling in her grave at the very idea of you being in the same room with some of these people you call clients."

Fortunately Natasha was in too big a hurry to pursue the topic any further. She patted her pockets, located her keys and settled for shaking her head.

"All right, Loki. You're a grown man and you have to follow your own path. Clint will be back in about fifteen minutes. I have to run."

And of course she meant that literally. Natasha is big on running. She enters races. She practically lives in jogging outfits. What she lacks in speed she makes up for in determination and endurance. I waved her off and headed for the workroom, where a partially assembled arrangement sat waiting on the counter.

The shop is always slow at this time of day, so I changed the radio station until I found one that suited me better and started singing along. I was doing a little dance around the table in time to a classic rock song when a young voice penetrated both the radio and my off-key singing.

"Hey! Mister, do you work here?"

I stopped moving and looked up from the fern I was tucking into place. Only I had to look down to find the originator of the question. A kid of about seven or eight stood there. He was a skinny little boy in bright red T-shirt, navy shorts and dirty tennis shoes. His sandy brown hair needed combing and the most gorgeous chocolate-brown eyes I have ever seen. I would have killed for the thick black lashes that framed them. This kid was going to be a real heartbreaker in a few years.

At the moment those expressive eyes were regarding me with an extremely adult expression.

"Oh, forgive me," I apologized, snapping off the music. "I did not hear you come in."

"I'm not surprised."

That made me blink. "You are quite young for sarcasm, are you not?"

"I'm ten."

I had guessed younger, but then I have not had a lot of experience with kids other than infant niece since I had stopped babysitting and started dating around age fifteen. The boy was watching me closely, so I tried for a sage nod.

"Ten is a good age. Can I help you with anything?"

His expression said he doubted it, but his head bobbed.

"I'm looking for D. L. Laufeyson."

Not what I had expected. My mouth fell open, so I filled it with a question. "Why?"

"I wanted to hire him," the kid explained as if I were a moron. "There's a little sign out front that says he works here. The phone book listed this address, but this place is filled with flowers. Did he move?"

Now, the sign out front next to the door is on the small side, but do you know how much a sign costs? Besides, this is my friend's shop and that means she gets the big billing. But hey! Who need to be patronized by a ten-year-old?

"D.L. Laufeyson is a private investigator," I explained to him.

"I know. That's why I want to hire him."

"You want to hire a private investigator?" I could not keep the skepticism out of my voice.

He shuffled his feet and looked down at his scuffed tennis shoes. His body was so tense, it made my muscle aches to look at him.

"I have to find Jarvis," the boy said. "See, he's old and I was supposed to keep an eye on him so he didn't get out and wander away, like he does sometimes, but I was playing a game and I forgot to check the screen door after my dad left."

He got it all out in one breath, and I wondered what sort of people would make a little kid like this responsible for some old man with Alzheimer's. The boy was far too young for that sort of responsibility.

"If he gets hit by a car or attacked by dogs, it'll be my entire fault."

I put down the fern and tried frantically to think of something comforting to offer. "I do not think you have to worry about him getting attacked by dogs."

He looked up at me, and then gave a nod as if that was not a perfectly stupid thing to say.

"I guess so. He chases old man Robby's Doberman all the time. But if I don't find Jarvis before my dad get home, he's going to be upset."

"I will tell you something, why not we call the police and . . . "

"No!" Panic filled his expression. "I want to hire D. L. Laufeyson! I can pay him."

He reached in his pocket and pulled out a crumpled wad of grungy dollar bills.

"I've got forty-two dollars saved to buy the Iron Man game. It's coming out next month, but this is more important. Do you think it's enough to find Jarvis?"

The kid was so pathetically earnest, I wanted to smack him in the head, if I do so then I will be sentence to jail for child abuse, so I refrain myself in doing. "Look, I will tell you what we. . ."

"I mean, he's just a cat. Anything could happen to him."

My mouth dropped open again. "A cat?"

The kid nodded solemnly. "D. L. Laufeyson has to help me find him. Uncle Steve says that's one of the things detective do. They find things for people."

Faced with that adorable, earnest expression, I swallowed several inappropriate responses while he waited in silence for me to say something.

"Let me get this straight." I stalled. "You want to hire me to find your cat?"

"Not you," he scoffed. "D. L. Laufeyson. And it isn't my cat he's my uncle's cat. I was just watching him."

Why me?

"Look, I hate to tell you this kid, but I'm D. L. Leufyson."

"No, you aren't. You work in the flower shop."

The tone and his assumption stung my pride. I tugged my identification folder from my hip pocket and flipped it open, holding it out for his inspection.

"See," I told him. "D. L. Laufeyson. Detective Loki Laufeyson."

The little maggot actually took the folder and examined it, comparing me to my picture. While it was not a particularly flattering picture and my hair was shorter back then, my feature were clear enough to satisfy him.

"You don't look like a private investigator."

"I get that a lot." Unfortunately it was true. "That is what makes me good at my job," I added, giving him my stock response. "Okay, kid. . . what is your name anyhow?"

"Tony,"

"Okay, Tony," I said, replacing the folder. "I had really wanted to help you, but I do not know anything about cats. Your best option. . ."

But Tony had come prepared for a brush-off. He whipped out a bent photograph of himself holding an indistinguishable blob of gray fur. He thrust it in my hand before I could finish my suggestion.

"Here's his picture," Tony said in a rush. "His name is Jarvis and he's seventeen. That's old for a cat. The screen door doesn't latch so good, so he musta got out between nine and ten this morning. I searched the whole neighborhood, but I can't find him. We live right near the park, so I bet he went there to chase birds or something, but I can't search the whole park by myself. And I have to get home before my dad finds out I'm not at the pool with Coulson and his mom. See, my dad's kinda nervous on account of my mom getting killed. Dad's been under a lot of stress."

That put the brakes on my objections and captured my full and complete attention. "Your mother was killed?"

He nodded gravely. "That's why you have to find Jarvis. I don't want my dad to be sad anymore. He'll be real upset when he finds out he's gone. I was supposed to watch him."

I had so many questions jamming my brain, I could not decide what to ask first. Unfortunately Tony moved a lot faster than my thought processes. He plopped the wad of crumpled bills on the work counter and sprinted for the front of the shop before I could blink.

"Hey! Wait!"

"You can keep the picture," Tony tossed over his shoulder.

"Wait! Tony! Wait What is your last name?"

I chased him out the front door, but he was already astride a fancy red bike, with golden strip.

"I gotta go!" he shouted. "I'm late! Keep Jarvis when you find him. I'll come back tomorrow to get him."

The bike turned the corner and sped off down the sidewalk.

I started to run after him before I remember that I was alone in the store. I could not leave until Barton returned.

Blast! How humiliating to be caught flat by a ten-year-old kid. Since standing there was not going to do much good and the afternoon heat was sucking my lungs dry. I returned to the chill air inside the store. I stared at the grungy heap of crumpled dollar bills sitting on the counter in the back room. Now what was I supposed to do?

I preferred dog than cats.

TBC..


	2. No way!

******Disclaimer: ******I do not own Avenger or any of its characters.

**AN**: I apologize for the delay. Anyhow, enjoy.

**CHAPTER 2**

Finding a gray cat is not like looking for a needle in a haystack. It _is _the haystack. The world is full of gray cats – at least, Lakewood Park was on this particular day.

There were dozens of small parks in and around town, not to mention the valley, a system of parks in and around town around a good portion of Cuyahoga County. However, using my deductive abilities, I took the direction the kid had headed and his comment about the pool and choose Lakewood over Madison Park, since they were the only two that had pools nearby.

Searching for a cat is a job for Animal Control, not a private investigator, but the kid had hooked me with those sad eyes. And I admit the whole bit about his mother being killed had dangled a carrot I could not resist. It could have been a traffic accident. Hell it probably had been a traffic accident. But I wanted more information.

Besides, the kid had given up an Iron Man gaming thingy – whatever that was – to hire a detective to find his uncle's old cat so his father would not be upset anymore. Hell I did not have any choice. Not when he had paid up front.

I had no intention of keeping his money, of course. I had locked it away in my friend's desk and I will give it back to him as soon as he picked up his cat. And hopefully one of the two beasts I had managed to catch would turn out to be Mr. Jarvis.

Not being totally moron, I had stopped by a pet store on my way to the park to pick up a few things I figured I was going to need to trap and hold Mr. Jarvis. Silly me. I should have added bandages, iodine, even tourniquets, to my list of necessities. Blood still trickled down my hand, squishing between my fingers and smearing the steering wheel with sticky residue. I should have remembered that cats come with claws. Nevertheless I had two mostly gray cats that sort of matched the picture Tony had given me. One of them had better be Mr. Jarvis.

As far as I'm concerned, one gray cat looks pretty much like another. Even though the first one was a darker gray and had white under chin and the second one had a patch of white on his belly, either one could be the cat in the picture as far as I could tell. The two nasty-tempered little monsters were in my car yowling at the top of their considerable lungs. They had been friendly enough when I was petting them and offering them treats, but once I had put them inside, all hell broke loose.

Jarvis One was inside the box a stock boy had given me. Since I had not planned on finding more than one cat, I did not have a second box, however Jarvis Two had come willingly into my arms until I had tried to add him to the same box. Hence all the blood. Jarvis Two was now crouched on the floorboard in the narrow backseat after tearing strips of skin off my hand.

Driving with a cat loose in the car made me nervous, but I was not about to try picking the beast up a second time. And short of putting him in the trunk, there was no other option. To make matters worse, I had stopped a third gray cat right before leaving the park. By then my need to help the kid was waning big-time. It was growing late and my stomach was grumbling over the small salad I had for lunch, and where would I have put a third cat anyhow? As it was, I was going to have to smuggle the two beasts into my apartment without being seen and doubted they were going to cooperate.

I debated blowing my small portion of meals by stopping for a fast-food big burger mac on my way home, but given my luck, Jarvis Two would prefer fast food to the kitty tuna I had bought. He probably have it eaten before I got it out of the car. He had certainly eaten the treats I had offered him as if he had been starving – which from the paunch on that cat, was a big, fat lie.

I figured my best bet was to go straight home and change into something more appropriate for tailing someone who lives in the Shaker Heights area. I could get fast food on my way to the assignment. Besides, I needed to call Natasha and remind her I wanted to borrow her car tonight. I could hardly drive around on the east side of town in an antique VW Beetle painted mostly in apple-green.

My cell phone rang as I pulled onto Lake Avenue coming out of the park. I dripped a splotch of blood on the seat cover while reaching over to answer the summons. I would not have bothered except that my cell phone is listed on my business cards and I cannot afford to ignore a possible client.

"D. L. Laufeyson," I snapped out, hoping for a red light so I could use a tissue to mop the blood before it stained. Between the rivulets of sweat dripping down my body, the throbbing gouges on my hand and the noise emanating from both cats, I was not in the best of moods.

There was a pause on the other end that made me regret my tone. Then a familiar voice – one that sounded as if the speaker had swallowed gravel shards – spoke in my ear.

"Mr. Laufeyson, this is Thanos."

I cringed. Clenching the cell phone against my ear, I prayed he was not calling to cancel tonight's job. The rent was due next week and I had counted on that money.

"Mr. Thanos!" I exclaimed, trying to infuse my voice with enthusiasm. "What can I do for you?"

This time the pause was enough to send my heart in my throat.

"Have I called at a bad time, Mr. Laufeyson?"

"Certainly not."

Jarvis Two contradicted me with a plaintive yowl. The sound filled the interior of the car. I grimaced.

"I apologized about the noise, Mr. Thanos. I'm currently transporting a pair of unhappy cats, uh… for a friend."

What else could I say?

He sniffed. "Nasty creatures, cats."

I was not about to argue the point. At the moment they did not rank high in my esteem either. I only hoped they had all their shots. And why had I not thought of that before I gone and picked them up with my bare hands?

"Mr. Laufeyson. I'm wondering if you could see your way clear to start the assignment a bit earlier this evening than we agreed?" he went on. "It seems my wife made dinner plans with some acquaintances and just communicated this information to me. I'm sorry for the short notice, but she intends to leave the house a little past six. You will need to be in position before then."

I glanced at the dashboard clock. It was few minutes past five already. Rush hour. And his address was clear across town in an area I was not familiar with. There was no way I could go home and change clothes and still make it to Shaker Heights before six. I glanced down at my faded jeans and stained light green shirt and bit my bottom lip.

"Is your wife going somewhere fancy for dinner?" I asked. If so, I was utterly doomed.

"I believe she mention Bergan's in Legacy Village. Is that a problem, Mr. Laufeyson?"

His cold tone indicated it had better not be a problem.

"Of course not," I lied. "I'm on my way."

"Excellent. I'll send someone by your office tomorrow morning for a copy of the pictures and your report."

"Ah, that would be fine, Mr. Thanos, however there is no one at the shop before nine. If you like, I can bring everything by your office earlier than that."

"Nine o'clock will suffice, Mr. Laufeyson. My associate will call on you then."

"Alright, if that is your preference."

"It is. Good evening, Mr. Laufeyson."

"Too late for that," I muttered at the sound of the click on his end.

Actually I could have gotten to the shop earlier than nine, but I'm not a morning person. Besides, I did not want to risk any flower shop customers coming in when I was there alone with a client. Or in this case, a client's representative.

That cat in the box on the seat beside me was scrabbling furiously at the cardboard and swearing at me in cat. The one in the back had settled for piteous mews of unhappiness. I was not sure which was worse.

"Look, guys, let's just make the best of this, all right? Whichever one of you is Mr. Jarvis is going back home tomorrow. The other one gets to go to the animal shelter to find a nice new home, so let's be silence and let me drive, are we clear?"

Not a chance. Time stretched unbearably between the cats and rush-hour traffic. All in all I made decent time to Shaker Heights, but then I got lost on the side streets trying to find the address.

I was sweating profusely by the time I stumbled on through sheer dumb luck. The sweat was only partly due to frustration. Mostly it was result of the lack of cool air in the small car. I did not dare open the windows, even the wings more than a crack, for fear Jarvis Two might prove suicidal.

The east side of Cleveland is different from my part of town. Sleipnir would not raise eyebrows on the west side, but here he stood out like red spot at a funeral. Somehow I was pretty sure no one in this neighborhood was apt to mistake him for one of the trendy reissued Bugs that had come out couple of years ago. Sleipnir made no pretenses about what he was. His numerous rust spots had been sanded, filled in and painted with primer, but I had broken things off with Svadilfari again before the mechanic got around to putting any paint on Sleipnir for me. Bad timing on my part.

I have known Svadilfari since high school. We graduated together. He is a nice enough guy when he is not being a bastard, however our relationship is not exactly the romance of the century. More like a comfortable habit when we are both at loose ends. Svadilfari's happiest when he is covered in grease, with auto guts spread all around him. Whatever our relationship at any given moment, I have to give him credit for keeping the important parts of Sleipnir running all these years past their prime.

As I drove past the address I had been given, I wondered what it would be like to live in a place this fancy. Somehow I did not think I will be comfortable behind an ornate fence in neighborhood where even the houses managed to look snobbish.

Since there was nowhere I could park and look inconspicuous, I pulled to the side of the road a few houses down and spread out the map I had been trying to read when I gotten lost. I had the perfect cover story ready in case someone came along demanding to know what I was doing here. I will tell the curious that I was trying to deliver a pair of lost cats to their owner. I have found it always pays to use what you have to hand.

Besides, I was not the only car parked along the street, even if the other vehicle was a burgundy Honda that looked far more presentable in this neighborhood than Sleipnir. Tough cookies, as Svadilfari like to say. I was here and I was staying here until my quarry appeared. I had her picture, her license plate number and a description of her car. All I had to do was wait and pray Mrs. Freyja had not left before I found her house.

My hand had stopped bleeding, so I used tissues and spit to clean up as best I could. Hygiene be damned. I was running out of saliva when I realized the car had grown ominously silent. No sound came from inside the box. Worse, there was nothing from the backseat.

My shoulders tensed. My neck prickled. Was Jarvis Two preparing to spring over the seat and attack me? Or worse, had he died of asphyxiation back there? The last thing I needed was a pair of dead cats. I had not thought to poke any air hole in the box since I had not expected him to be in there for any length of time. But cats like heat, right? They were always pictured curled up in front of a roaring fire.

I lowered the windows as far as I dared and opened the wings to the extent where I was pretty sure the cat's head would not fit through. Then I debated lifting a flap to check on Jarvis One. Except things would be worse if he got loose in the car with the other one. I was twisting to peer over the backseat to check on Jarvis Two when movement over near the burgundy Honda caught my attention.

A man appeared between some tall hedges. Not just any man. This was a delicious hunk of serious eye candy. He strode toward the car with the assurance of someone who knew where he was going. A simple white t-shirt and black blazer, over neatly black jeans gave him a suave, and rough edge of hot and cool, debonair look that captured my full attention – and my imagination.

Yum. He was gorgeous. Even his blond hair, curled slightly against the nape of his neck and in need of a trim, did not diminish his appeal. He carried his tall, muscular frame with comfortable authority. His features carried a trace of ruggedness that kept him from being too pretty, however it was a face no sane man or women would mind waking up beside. The man exuded raw sex appeal.

I sighed wistfully and decided I needed to get out more. My love life was nonexistent. Since moving back to Ohio, the only guys and girls I had dated on a regular basis had been Svadilfari and Sigyn. Sigyn was Natasha's accountant. A freckle faced strawberry-blond, she was nice shy girl, however she saved her passion for glittering little tiara and pageants. Put her in a neat social gala with a group of woman wearing their outmost beautiful gown and the transformation was downright scary. The meek accountant turned into a raging miss universe wanna be.

Now, I like pretty girls and as well as social function and gala, but it was just a game of social etiquette and moral standard! Sigyn took every bad posed and wrong answers as a personal affront. She had actually thrown her expensive jimmy choo shoes through his mother's television set one time when Miss USA had slip and fall to the floor. With the season about to begin again, I knew it was time to start looking around for someone else to date.

Svadilfari and Sigyn are pleasant to look at, steadily employed, good to their family and… well, frankly, boring. The man sliding into the Honda did not look the least bit boring. I could not speak to the rest, but it was too bad I had not been hired to tail him.

I looked back toward the driveway just in time to see a gleaming white Jaguar glide through the open gate of the Thanos driveway. Freyja was leaving.

Her car turned right onto the street. The opposite direction I was facing, naturally. The handsome stranger's car fell in several car lengths behind her while I had to shoo Jarvis Two back over the backseat and start Sleipnir.

Putting him into gear, I made a tight U-turn on the narrow street as the burgundy car disappeared around the corner at the end of the street. Both animals protested loudly as I hurried to close the distance. Jarvis One went back to desperately clawing the insides of the box while Jarvis Two tried to drown him out with sheer volume right behind my seat.

I turned on the radio in self-defense and hung back as far as I dared as soon as I spotted the white Jaguar some distance up ahead. There was no way I was inconspicuous if she was watching for tail. I blessed the burgundy Honda's presence in between us until it turned off onto a side street and left me the only car on the road behind her.

Apparently Freyja was not paying attention to her rearview mirror. While she might not be concerned if she did notice me back here, that would change if she continued to see my car everywhere she went. If only there had been time to borrow Natasha's light gray Buick.

Fortunately Freyja did not seem to be in a hurry. Everyone had heard of Legacy Village, however it is not familiar to me. The east side of Cleveland is not my territory, so I was not sure how to get there from here. My map was so old, it did not even show the development. That meant I had to stay close enough to the Jag that Freyja did not lose me.

I was concentrating on maintaining the proper distance when suddenly occurred to me to wonder why Mr. Thanos had selected me to tail his wife. I mean, there had to be other private investigators he could have hired. Ones that lived on his side of town. They would have been more familiar with the area and no doubt would have blended in far better than I was doing.

When Mr. Thanos had called and asked for a meeting, I had simply been grateful for the work. Now I started wondering. They say you should not look a gift horse in the mouth, however, as Svadilfari liked to point out, how else are you going to determine how sharp the teeth are?

Both cat continued making a ruckus as I pulled into the shopping center two cars behind the Jag. The village concept for housing tract is all the rage right now, even though I'm pretty sure I read somewhere that Walt Disney pioneered the concept long before I was born. The problem is, with land being at such a premium, the builders make their money on retail spaces, not parking spaces, so they do not bother planning for adequate parking.

The Jaguar had no problem, of course. Cars could not get out of its way fast enough. Those same cars sneered at Sleipnir. I lost two parking places to vehicles that cost more than the contents of my entire apartment before I got lucky. A Lexus started pulling out four cars down from me. I had to beat out a bastard with a dark-tinted SUV to claim the spot, zipped in with ease. Not only that, but it was one of the few spots completely in the shade. I thanked the fates as I climbed out of the car, taking care that I was the only one who got out.

Fortunately my camera was in the trunk. The last thing I wanted to do was dispute territory with the angry animal on the backseat. The box on the front seat gave me pause. I was pretty sure Jarvis One could not eat his way through the heavy cardboard, but it sounded as if he was giving it a valiant try.

There was no time to worry about that now. I grabbed my camera and set off after Freyja before I lost her in the crowd. A tall, leggy brunette with short swingy hair and an aristocratic bearing, she strolled along as if she owned the place, looking neither left nor right.

If her husband had thought this dinner was a cover for an assignation with a lover, he was going to be sadly disappointed. I was in a good position to watch her meet with three women close to her age – twenty-eight, according to what her husband had told me. Freyja was obviously a trophy wife. Mr. Thanos was close to seventy if he was a day.

I snapped several good shots of the women while I pretended to photograph the area. Freyja had her back to me the whole time. I willed her to turn around to no avail. I figured it did not matter since Mr. Thanos knew what she looked like. It was the people she met with he wanted picture of.

The restaurant was surprisingly crowded for a Monday evening. People stood inside and outside talking in clusters. The four women were standing outside. I was pretty sure I was not going to be able to get inside with them, however I decided it did not matter as long as I did not miss Freyja when she left. Besides, I felt self-conscious dressed the way I was. There were plenty of other people wearing faded jeans and t-shirt, but theirs had not come from a discount store, nor were the stained with blood and smudged with dirt and cat hairs.

At least the crowds offered plenty of cover for me. I stood wilting in the sun, trying to appear as though I belonged there and was waiting to meet someone. And as I was looking around for a place with a view to await while they ate dinner. I glimpsed a blond-haired man moving away from me. Something about him reminded me of the sexy stranger with the Honda. To my profound disappointment, he stepped inside the store before I could get an unobstructed view of him.

I should not really be wasting time ogling sexy strangers anyhow. My job was to keep my eyes on Freyja, and it was good thing I did. We had only been standing there a matter of minutes when she did the unexpected. She left.

With a wave and a smile she sauntered back to the parking lot, nearly catching me flat. Perhaps Mr. Thanos had not misread his wife after all. It appeared that this dinner with friends was nothing more than a setup for her real assignation.

I felt a hum of excitement. I had no idea where she was going next, but this was bound to be the reason Mr. Thanos had hired me. If she lost me now, my client would be most unhappy.

The idea of a man with possible mobster ties being unhappy with me started a thread of tension mingling with my excitement. Tension quickly turned to panic when I nearly lost her coming of the parking area. There was some sort of fender bender two rows over that caused enough confusion that she made the traffic light and I did not.

I spent several minutes sweating buckets and muttering profanity before I was able to charge down the road in the direction she had taken. I did not slow down until I came up in front of me. Breathing a considerable sigh of relief. I noted Freyja was talking to someone on her cell phone as she drove. The boyfriend to tell him she was on her way?

Freyja was a careful driver. That came as something of a shock because the perky brunette did not strike me as the slow and methodical type. Still, I was deeply grateful as she all but led me by the hand, using her turn signals well ahead of time as we headed into downtown Cleveland near the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. I was on more familiar territory now, however my relief was short lived. I was seriously underdressed for her next stop.

Scarpanelli's is a new Italian restaurant with a commanding view overlooking Lake Erie near the Burke Lakefront Airport. I was not sure, but I thought it might be one of the places my client, Mr. Thanos, owns. I had heard the food was superb if you did not mind dropping close to a hundred dollars on a meal. I minded. I did not even date guys or girls with that sort of money.

Assuming I could get the hostess to let me inside dressed in faded jeans, I still had a problem. I could not afford an appetizer let alone a meal in there. The restaurant was busy but not yet crowded. That would come later. Right now it was mostly wealthy families and blue-rinse walker-and-cane crowd. Freyja would stand out in that mix. Too bad I would not be able to see who she was standing out to meet. This was not good. In fact, this was very bad.

I debated calling Mr. Thanos on the number he had given me to explain the problem, but I could not see him being particularly sympathetic. He was attending some important business dinner tonight and he had hired me to do a job. He would not want excuses as to why I could not do said job.

From now on, I vowed, I will keep a couple of outfits in the trunk for emergencies like this one. In the meantime I was stuck. I could not follow her inside, so I have to see if I could find a place outside where I could peer in.

No such luck. The entire back wall was elevated and composed of tinted glass. Patrons could see out over the lake, but could not see in.

I was making my way around the building when I surprised a young women near the kitchen entrance. He was puffing a joint in a secluded nook near the trash bins. His body jerked sharply startled when I appeared around the corner.

"Hey. What are you doing here? You aren't allowed back here."

At a guess, she was about seventeen. Based on her dark skirt and white shirt I figured her for a waitress. I offered her a friendly smile.

"You are not allowed to smoke weed either, however that does not seem to be stopping you. Listen, I'm not interested in your drug habits, I'm a private investigator," I told her before she could get bent out of shape.

"Yeah, right."

Whipping out my ID folder, I offered her proof. She studied it almost as carefully as Tony had.

"Hey, cool. You want a hit?"

"No, thank, but I could use your help."

"Yeah?"

"There is a woman inside the restaurant. Tall brunette, short hair with bangs. She is wearing a pale blue shirt and a matching silk blouse." I pulled out the picture of Freyja and gave her a look. "She went in alone a few minutes ago. I need to know who she is meeting in there. There is a twenty in it for you if you can help me out."

Which would leave me exactly three dollars in cash until I found an ATM. But, hey, I had get the money back under expenses.

The kid smirked. She looked me up and down curiously. I could see she was intrigued.

"How come you want to know about her?"

I shrugged, trying for the blasé. "It's my job. Her husband hired me to see if she is meeting another man."

"I thought P.I's were tall guys with black trench coat and a blue scarf like they show on television."

"Wha—are you watching Sherlock? Anyways, he is not a P.I, he is the world's only Consulting Detective. Haven't you ever heard a normal and real life Private Investigator?" I asked.

"You're the first. Are you carrying a gun?"

She seemed to be trying to decide where I was hiding one under my faded jeans and light green shirt.

"Not at the moment. This is a simple tail job. No guns required. Do you think you can help me?"

She finished her joint and nodded. I could see the questions bubbling up inside her, so I was surprised when she glanced at her watch and straightened.

"I'll check for you, but you had better wait around the corner over there. Other waiters will be dumping trash pretty soon and they won't like you hanging here."

"Thank you. That's fine."

"I'll be back, but it might be a while."

"I'm not going anywhere."

Unless Freyja decided to leave here all of a sudden, too. I tried not to feel conspicuous as I moved to stand near the corner of the restaurant where I could keep an eye on the parking lot. The day's heat was finally melting away. There was even a welcome breeze coming in off the lake. Unfortunately, I was too nervous to be properly appreciative. The luscious smells wafting from the kitchen were making me drool. I wandered if they fed strays at the kitchen door. I had willing sit up and beg for a taste of what I was sniffing. The longer I stood there, the louder my stomach complained. I fervently wished my waitress would return and tell me what was going on inside.

After what felt like I had been standing there for hours, she scooted out the back door and rushed over to where I was waiting.

"I can't stay," she told me breathlessly. "Your woman's in there, all right. Table thirty-two. She ordered the French onion soup with tonight's special, the lobster fettuccine—"

"Did she meet anyone?" I interrupted before she could give me any more details. Visualizing food when my stomach was knocking against the back of my ribs was sheer torture. "Has anyone approached her table?"

"Nope. As far as I can tell, she's completely alone. Kinda surprising. I mean, she's not bad looking for an old woman, you know? She just ordered coffee and the white-chocolate-mouse cake, so she'll probably be in there for another half hour or so. She doesn't seem to be in any hurry."

I fished out my twenty and watched it disappear into her bra. "Thanks. I appreciate your help."

"No problem. Want me to bring you something from the kitchen while you're waiting?"

More than anything in the world. With extreme reluctance I shook my head, reminding myself I was supposed to look out for Freyja in things get off hand.

"Thank you, but I have to be ready to roll when she is. What is your name, anyhow?"

"It Sif."

I stuck out my hand. "Loki Laufeyson." I told him as we shook. "Thanks again for your help, Sif. If you ever need a P.I., look me up. I'm in the phone book. I do not have any cards on me at the moment." The new ones I had printed were still sitting on my desk in the office back at the flower shop. I had forgotten to stick them in my folder again.

"Cool. Thanks. I gotta get back before they miss me."

As she ran back to the kitchen entrance, I hurried across the parking lot to the Jaguar. There were a lot of people moving about now, but on one gave me a second glance. I'm not sure why I went over her car, really. I was not looking for anything specific, but since I had time to kill, checking out her car seemed like the natural thing to do.

Freyja had not struck me as a careless person. She certainly did not drive like one, yet she had left her driver's door unlocked. The temptation was irresistible. This was probably the only opportunity I had ever have to sit in a Jaguar. Besides, there was a sheet of paper lying on the passenger's seat. I needed to check it out. It could be a clue.

The plush leather seat cocooned me the moment I sank down. The opulent interior still retained a trace of coolness from the air conditioner. Reaching for the paper, I saw it was a set of hand-printed direction to a piano lounge downtown called Balder's. I had never heard of the place, however the directions were straightforward and it was not far from here. Tuesday, 8:00p.m., and a phone number had been printed across the top like an afterthought.

This was almost too easy. Fate seemed to be nurturing me for once. I blew it a mental kiss and made a note of the phone number. I wondered if the number went with the lounge or the person she was supposed to meet. Since it looked like a cell phone number, odds were it was the latter, but I would not know for sure unless I gave the number a try.

The car itself was so pristine, it could have just come from a car wash. Hell, it probably had. Sleipnir had not seen the inside of a car wash since… come to think of it, he may never have seen the inside of a car wash. I decided to make it up to him first chance I got while continued to search the interior of the Jag. I did not expect to find a thing.

Certainly not the .38 revolver she had tucked up under the driver's seat.

That gave me serious pause. Why was someone like Freyja carrying concealed? I guess it made sense if her husband was a mobster. And I suppose it was possible she had a permit. Still, that heavy lump of metal made me very nervous. It implied a whole lot of things and none of them were good. People with guns have a bad habit of firing them.

I own a gun, but I have only ever used it on a firing range. It is not something I carry around, even though I have a permit. I replace the weapon carefully back under the front seat. A strand of brown dark hair on the carpeting caught my attention.

Interesting. Either Freyja had extremely dry, coarse hair or she like wigs. Wearing one in this head did not seem likely unless she had some sort of physical problem requiring one.

Tucking the hair in my pocket, I stepped from the car and crossed the lot to where I had parked Sliepnir. Jarvis Two sat on the driver's seat scratching at the box on the passenger side. The minute he saw me, he leaped onto the box and over the seat into the back once more.

Sleipnir was warmer into than the Jag had been, but the temperature was not too bad anymore. That breeze coming in off the lake through the windows had cooled things down considerably, and it probably helped that I was parked in the shade. Still, I was worried about the cats.

"Sorry, guys. I should have asked Sif for some water. I could use a drink myself. However we will have to wait until I get you home."

Neither of them made a sound as I reached for my cell phone and dialed the number printed on the paper I had found.

"Hello?" A decidedly delicious voice answered.

Deep, rich, sexy and male, the sound washed over me. Definitely not Balder's Lounge unless this was Balder himself.

"Sorry," I told the voice. "I must have the wrong number."

"Who were you trying to reach?"

There was a sudden edge to the voice. It was still great voice.

"Maria Hill," I told him. I pulled a friend's name off the top of my head and read him back his number, transposing the last two digits. He corrected me immediately.

I could have listened to his voice forever, however my quarry chose that moment to leave the restaurant, so I apologized and hung up. I wondered if the man matched his voice. Then I wondered if I was about to find out. Was she on her way to meet the man behind that voice?

There was enough traffic on the street that I did not have to worry about being spotted now. When I felt certain Freyja's destination was the address on the paper, I decided to take a chance. I turned off, took a shortcut that would bring me up on the street behind Balder's and parked the car where I had have no trouble getting out in a hurry. I walked around the block and stood across the street in the doorway of a closed shop. It afforded me a good view of the parking lot as well as the front door of the lounge while keeping me relatively concealed.

Freyja pulled in even as I slipped into position. She stepped from the Jag and flashed a look around as if she was expecting someone. After a few seconds, she frowned and headed for the entrance.

I decided to give her ten minutes to get settled before going inside myself. I was regretting my generosity with Sif. Since I only had three dollars left, I could not go sit at the bar. The best I could do was have a quick peek inside to see who she met. I might be able to snap a picture unobserved, but it was not likely. I had have to try for the man's picture when they came back outside.

And I was fairly sure it would be a he. A woman does not go to a place like Balder's alone unless she is meeting someone or trolling. Either way I needed to capture the moment on my digital camera.

Since I could not read my watch in the growing darkness, I had to guess at the time. I was about to make my move when there was a movement near the back of the lounge's parking lot. Someone had stepped out of a car that was already parking before Freyja arrived or I would have noticed it pulling in. Given that I do not believe in coincidence, I knew the driver would turn out to be even before he came into view.

My heart skipped a beat, then started thumping like a wild thing. I almost forgot to bring up the camera. I was right. The zoom lens was not necessary to tell me that this was the same man who had been parked on Freyja's street earlier this evening.

**TBC..**


	3. What now?

******Disclaimer: ******I do not own Avenger or any of its characters.

**A/N: **I update irregularly due to my studies and work, sorry about that. And I would also like to have this opportunity to thank you for the follow, fav and review. That's really nice of you guys:] Alright, on with the story.

**CHAPTER** **3**

Didn't it just figure? The first interesting man I have seen since moving back home turned out to be the lover of the woman I had been hired to follow. I shrugged philosophically. If he was the sort who had affairs with married women, he was not my type anyhow.

I let some time elapse before crossing the street. Instead of following him inside, I headed straight for the burgundy Honda. Unfortunately Freyja's boyfriend was not accommodating as she had been. He had locked his car and its insides were anything but pristine. I could not see much besides fast food wrappers, empty paper cups, CD cases and a paperback whose title I could not make out. Somehow that the handsome man was a bit of a slob made me feel a little better.

As I moved around the car I discovered the Honda had a broken taillight and a dent in back on the left-hand side. Since I had followed that car when we had left the Thano's place, I knew that dent had not been there earlier. Though I had not noticed his car there, I was guessing he had been part of the accident in the parking lot at Legacy Village that had nearly caused me to lose Freyja. That meant he had been following her, too, which did not make a bit of sense. What was the point if they had been scheduled to meet here anyhow?

I did not like this, not even a little. I was feeling very edgy as I noted the time and took down the plate number before heading for the main entrance. Balder's was nothing more than upscale bar that showcased a baby-grand piano. This being a Monday night, there was no one at the keyboard. A player piano along the far wall was belting out an old rock-and-roll tune.

There were only a handful of customers inside and most of them were sitting at the bar itself. I nodded to the bartender, ignored the other stares and strode toward the back as if I knew where I was going. Turned out I did. The restrooms were back there and so was my quarry. They were sitting in a booth conveniently close to the man's room. The man glanced my way as I strode past, but I didn't look in their direction. I did not think he would recognize me. How could he?

Setting my camera down on a shelf, I washed my cuts in the cracked but surprisingly clean sink. I wanted to give the couple time to forget about me. The scratches were red and angry looking, not to mention painful, but they did not look infected and I figured they were my own fault. The cats had only been fighting for their freedom. I could not blame them. After all, I was a stranger and only one of them was Mr. Jarvis.

By cracking open the bathroom door, I had an unobstructed view of the couple's table. I was glad now that I had gone to the expense of an infrared lens for my camera. A flash would have been noticeable problem. As it was, I snapped several pictures of them with their heads together before striding back past them. It was probably my imagination, but I felt his eye on my back all the way to the door.

There was an ATM on the corner of the building next door. I figured I had time to use if I hurried. As it turned out, I had not even needed to hurry. They took their time inside. I got several good shot of them coming out, still looking extremely cozy. The hunk helped her inside his car while I sprinted back to Sleipnir.

Jarvis Two was sitting on top of Jarvis One's box. I think he had been trying to let the other cat out. Fortunately he had not succeeded. He jumped over the backseat the minute be saw me coming. I scrambled inside and started the engine.

"Alright, guys, I'm really, really sorry. Honest. We are on our way to a motel unless I miss guess. Once I get there, I will see what I can do to make things better for you. I will scrounge up some water and give you something to eat, okay?"

From the grumbling, it was less than satisfactory. Guilt gnawed on me as we made our way onto the highway. I like animals – sometimes more than people. I did not want anything to happen to these little guys, even if I was not a cat person.

Since I was worried about the hunk spotting a tail, I hung back as far as I dared. Once seen, Sleipnir was somewhat unforgettable. I really was going to have to get him painted one of these days, even if I had to buy a spray can and do it myself.

It was not until the Honda headed for the Ohio Turnpike that I got worried. Were they running away together? Not that I blamed Freyja, mind you. Sexy young hunk versus balding old man with scary eyes was not even a toss-up in my book. Hell, I had be tempted to take off with the hunk, too, and I did not even have to go home to someone like Mr. Thanos. The problem was I could not follow them forever. Sleipnier was not used to traveling any distance or at speeds over forty miles per hour. I had no idea what his top speed was, but I knew it would not be much before he blew something critical.

Not so the Honda. I got on the turnpike with extreme misgiving and had all I could do to keep the other car in sight. The hunk drove as if he did not have a second to spare.

Sweat was dribbling down my face and it had little to do with the temperature, which was cooling off even more as night claimed the sky. Getting on the turnpike for a simple tryst seemed a bit extreme.

Where the devil were they going?

If they were running away together, I was in deep trouble. After a while Sleipnir's oil light began flashing intermittently. Sleipnir craves oil the way I crave soda, and I was pretty sure I did not have a can of either one in the trunk. If he broke down out here, I was in for it. Time to turn around.

Unfortunately I had run out of exits by the time I firmly came to that decision. We had come to the end of the Ohio Turnpike and I spotted the Honda near the head of the line to pay their toll.

I snapped a couple of quick pictures as I waited to one side of them, much farther back in my own line. As they went through, heading into Pennsylvania, I debated my options. The next exit was Beaver Falls. I had no choice. I have to turn around there and stop for oil so I could make it home. Even Mr. Thanos could not expect me to follow them clear across Pennsylvania.

Could he?

Probably, I decided fatalistically, but that was too had. He should have hired someone else. I had Sleipnir and two cats to think about – not to mention forty-three dollars minus the toll left in my wallet.

To my surprise, the Honda turned off at Beaver Falls. I urged Sleipnir to close the distance, hoping he would not blow a gasket or something even worse. My curiosity was going nuts, especially when they pulled into a jazzy-looking motel unit right off the highway. This was just too bizarre. They had driven all the way into Pennsylvania for a quickie? What was wrong with the motels in Ohio? Admittedly this place looked brand new, but even so, traveling all this way for a little and tickle made no sense.

The hunk was inside getting registered when I pulled up with my camera and found a strategic place to park. I got some quality shots of the two of them in front of the motel, then going inside a room. Mr. Thanos was going to be extremely pleased with the pictures, if not their content. He had probably like a few more intimate shots, however I draw the line at voyeurism, even if I could have seen in around the heavy drape they pulled across the window.

It was a safe bet they had be busy for the next half hour or so. I made a note of the time, left the car and the now silent cats and walked to the gas station on the corner for a can of oil for Sleipnir, some water for the cats and a candy bar and a can of soda for me. I ate the candy on my way back and wished I had bought more than one. I was starving.

Having dated a mechanic off and on, I had learned more than I ever wanted to know about car engines. Replenishing the oil was child's play. Except that sometime during my ministrations apparently my quarry split.

I could not believe it. When I closed the hood and glanced over at their parking space, the Honda was gone and the room was dark. I looked at my watch and blinked. Good grief. He might look like a hunk, but he was definitely no stud.

Maybe they had gone out for something to eat to recharge. Except that Freyja had just finished a full-course meal including dessert. As I hurried to the driver's side and got in, I wondered if they had a fight and changed their minds. That is when I realized I had a second problem. Jarvis One had escaped.

Oh, he was still in the car – unless he had been able to squeeze himself through one of the side vent windows. And I sincerely doubted that, even if he was the thinner of the two cats. I peered over the seat and four green eyes peered back at me from the floor.

"You helped him get out, did you not?"

Neither of them so much as blinked.

"Okay, fine. If you want company that bad, you can have it. As long as you both stay back there and out from under my feet, we will get along fine. I have got some water for you, but I guess it have better wait until we stop again. We are going home, so hang on."

Sleipnir started with a grinding noise I knew he should not be making. However, he did start and that was what counted. So, unfortunately, did the cries from the backseat.

"Stop it, you're giving me a headache."

Obviously they did not care.

Since there was no sign of the Honda in either direction, I decided there was little point in driving around aimlessly looking for it. I should have enough pictures to satisfy Mr. Thanos for one night.

"Hey! Quit it! I'm trying to drive here."

He hunkered down on the floor and hissed at me. It was a fun trip. Tony had given me forty-two dollars to find the cat, however there was not enough money in the world to put up with this. At least they stayed out from under my feet while I drove, but I live in fear the whole way home.

I had never been so grateful to park in my life – until I remembered I was going to have to find some way to smuggle the two cats inside without being seen. My apartment does not allow pets. They barely allow humans.

When I reached for the nearest cat, it drew back and took a swipe at me. Since my hand was still throbbing, I decided not to argue without protection. I hurried inside the building, dug out my winter leather gloves and a jacket and went back to the parking lot to play big-game hunter.

I'm sure it looked vastly entertaining to anyone watching – as long as that anyone was not the super. I hoped that nosy woman was absorbed in her television at this hour, because she and her husband lived in the building and they did not miss much.

Jarvis One was actually a pretty easy catch. He struggled briefly but almost seemed to welcome being dumped back inside the box. Maybe Jarvis Two had scared him. As long as he was not hurt, that was fine with me.

I carried the box inside and set it on the living room floor while I went back outside for the litter, litter pan and food I had purchased and put in the trunk. Jarvis One seized the opportunity to escape the box and disappeared behind a char. Fine with me. It's a small apartment. There were not too many other places he could go.

I got a dish of water and set everything on the bathroom floor before I went back out to try and catch Jarvis Two. He had no interest in letting me near him again, treats or not. he did not intend to be taken without a fight. The little beast put a hole in my jacket and ruined my gloves before I got him out of the backseat and into the box.

If there had been anyone in the lobby or on the steps as I ran upstairs with my yowling prize, I'd have been given an eviction notice on the spot.

The moment I plopped the box on the living room floor, the ungrateful little beast pushed up the flap and took off down the hall to disappear inside my bedroom. Not good. I did not want that cat in my bedroom. But after peering under the bed and being stared down by a pair of defiant green eyes, I decided he could stay. I was not up for another battle.

After zapping a frozen dinner to fill my stomach, I decided I had better download the photos before calling it a night. There was an especially good one of the hunk. I framed out the face and blew it up for a closer look. Despite the grainy texture his features were clear. He had light-colored eyes, probably blue, and rugged, sharply defined features.

I traced the square face on the screen with a fingertip. It was a strong face – the face of a man who took charge and got things done.

"In a hurry," I added aloud with a snicker as I remembered how short a time he had spent in the motel room. "So much for gorgeous hunks. You really should get a haircut, you know."

But instead of deleting the picture, I printed it out along with the others and set it to one side before I carefully marked and stored the memory stick. By the time I had typed up my notes into a report, I was yawning. There had not been a sound from either of my unwanted guests, so I went in search of them.

One was still under my bed. The other was squished behind the green hand-me-down sofa in the living room. I worried that he might be stuck back there, but when I would have moved it out from the wall, he proved me wrong by wriggling even farther back from the end.

"Fine. You want to spend the night back there, be my guest."

I was not quite as happy about the one under my bed, but as long as he stayed put we'd be fine. I set my alarm so I would not oversleep and got ready for bed.

I need not have bothered with the alarm. The cat-fight woke me before eight. Even I'm not enough of a zombie to sleep through noises like those, especially when the sounds were coming from the foot of my bed.

"Stop! Just be quiet will you!"

The sudden silence was almost as loud as the fight had been. I swung my legs off the bed and one of the Jarvis streaked out of the room. The other one must have gone back under the bed because there was no sign of it.

Great. It was not even eight o'clock in the morning and I was wide awake. My body clock does not normally start until mid-morning, after a couple of colas. Obviously this was not going to be a normal day. I had very happy when Tony claimed Mr. Jarvis so I could take the other cat to the animal shelter.

By the time I was dressed and ready to leave, I decided I was risking all-out war by leaving the two of them together unattended. I made a second makeshift litter boxes out of the cardboard box by cutting it down and lining it with aluminum foil. I left it in my bedroom with Jarvis Two and a second bowl of food and water.

I actually got the shop ahead of Natasha and Barton and utilized the time by setting up for the morning. I had coffee brewing and had started on the first of the day's arrangements by the time the pair arrived.

"Well, you're here bright and early this morning," Clint greeted in surprise.

"How did your evening go, Lok? I thought you wanted to borrow my car last night," Natasha added.

"The evening was. . . interesting," I told them, "and it turned out I did not have time to borrow the car, however it worked out fine. Mr. Thanos is sending someone over to pick up his report first thing this morning. And if a young boy name Tony shows up looking for me while I'm busy, keep him here at all costs."

"A young boy?" Clint said, raising one eyebrow in question.

I hated when she did that – being suspicious and all.

"He's ten," I said to head off the direction her thoughts were taking.

It was part of a grand conspiracy, of course. My entire family, including my dear friends figured if I got married, I had to give up this silly nonsense of being a private investigator. And what their matchmaking lacked in subtlety, it made up for in sheer volume. Any male or female in the right age bracket was considered fair game.

"Loki," Natasha said in an urgent whisper. "There is a man standing at the front door. I think it may be Mr. Thanos, uh, person."

Her alarmed expression brought me around the counter in a hurry. The man standing on the other side of the glass door did not move. I had the sense he was prepared to stand there indefinitely, like the boulder he resembled. Solid, unmovable, timeworn yet sinister in a way I did not want to define.

A craggy gray face perched over a gray silk tie on a gray silk shirt under a light gray pinstripe suit. If he had a neck, it was not obvious, but then boulders rarely have necks. Central casting would have loved this guy. Even his hair was turning gray at the edges. The only part that looked alive was a pair of incongruous light brown eyes, and they did not miss a thing.

He had seen me, so there was nothing for it but to open the door and let that entire sinister gray inside the colorful shop. He was going to look out of place. If that man had ever been inside a flower shop in his life, I'd eat the daisy in my hand.

"Mr. Laufeyson," he said when I unlocked the door, "I'm Hogan Delvecchi. Mr. Thanos sent me."

A nervous giggle tried to break free. I suppressed the urge – barely. This was too much like some bad television show – a softly spoken gangster with an Italian last name. And Hogan? Was he kidding? No, I could see he was not. There was certainly nothing humorous in his expression. And he seemed to have only the one – a blank stare that absorbed the details of everything around him without revealing his thoughts. I was pretty sure his face was incapable of smiling. Human boulders don't have a sense of humor.

Everything about the man gave me the creeping willies. I worked hard not to let it show.

"Come in, Mr. Delvecchi. I have been expecting you."

Well, not him. No one in their right mind would expect him. And the thing was I wanted him gone as fast as possible. I would never doubt Clint or Natasha's sources again. If this guy did not have underworld connections, no one did.

"I'll just get my report."

My heart hammered its way up my throat when followed me back to the office. He closed the door as I reached for the folder on the end of the desk. I caught him staring at the scratches on my hand.

"Did you have any problem?" He asked.

"N-no."

I was not going to explain about the cats, nor would I think about how the couple had left the motel when I was not looking. It was all in the report. I knew it made me look bad, but what could I do? I was not looking. It was all in the report. I knew it made me look bad, but what could I do? I was not about to lie to a mobster. On the other hand, I was not going to mention my failing to this guy if I did not have to.

"Good. Mr. Thanos would like to have the picture of this wife back."

That surprised me, but I pulled it from her file. Hogan Delvecchi reached a broad hand inside his suit jacket. My breath caught in the back of my throat. With slow deliberation he pulled out a slim piece of paper and extended it to me. A check, I realized in relief.

I tried not to shake as I took it from his hand, but my legs were emulating gelatin just like my inside. He knew it, I was sure. It probably gave him some sort of salacious thrill to go around scaring people by being polite. Let it. I just wanted him gone. Less than a minute later he was.

"Well," Clint said, coming to stand in the open doorway. "He wasn't much for conversation, was he?"

I sank down in the swivel chair and it tilted precariously until I readjusted my weight.

"Is everything all right?" Natasha asked, coming into view, as well.

"Excellent. He even paid me."

Except, how had he known what to pay? For the first time I really looked at the check in my sweaty palm. Once again my heart began to pound.

"He overpaid."

"That's nice, very nice."

"No its not. It's terrible. Now I have to call Mr. Thanos and return the extra three hundred forty-seven dollars he overpaid."

"Oh, I wouldn't do that, Lok. A man like Mr. Thanos can afford to tip generously."

"Tip? You think it's a tip?" When he read my report and saw I had lost them at the motel, he had wanted more than his "tip" back.

"At least he didn't shoot anyone," Clint said glibly as the two of them moved out into the workroom.

No. that would come after Mr. Thanos read the report. I had placed an itemized bill right on top. He had known exactly how much he had overpaid. I closed my eyes and groaned.

"Loki?" Clint called out. "There's a young man up front to see you."

Now what? I was not sure I could put on a friendly, professional face right now. I felt sick. It was not wise to mess with gangsters. I should have listened to Natasha and Clint right from the start and turned the job down.

I stuffed the check inside the desk drawer and squared my shoulders before going out to meet the newcomer. Once again I had to look down before I spotted him.

"Tony!"

He was dressed in green shorts and striped top today, but other than that he looked exactly the same. The same amazing chocolate-brown eyes looked up at me with an expression of hope mixed with fear.

"Did you find him?"

"I believe I do," I told him. "Actually I found two cats. I'm not sure which one is Mr. Jarvis."

"I gave you a picture," he said, sounding disgusted.

"Yeah," I said trying not to be defensive, "however he is gray. So are these two cats."

He looked around the shop and started toward the back. "Where are they?"

"At my place. Come, I'll give you a ride over and take you home afterward."

Doubt filled his expression.

"I'm not allowed to ride in cars with strangers."

Great. A kid who actually listened to his parents.

"You'll have you bring them here," he told me, sounding extremely adult.

I did not even have to think about that. The back of my hand was still smarting from the last set of scratches.

"How old did you say you are?"

"Ten."

_Going on thirty_, I decided uncharitably.

"If you are ten then you are old enough to understand the difference between getting in a car with a stranger and getting in a car with me. I work for you, remember?"

He thought about that before standing a little straignter.

"Okay, but what about my bike?'

"Clint, would it be fine if I take the van over to my apartment for a few minutes? My client and I need to pick up a cat."

"No problem. We don't have any deliveries until later this afternoon."

"Thanks. This will only take a few minutes." To the boy I asked, "How were you going to get him home on your bike?" if those cats had seemed frantic in a car, I could just imagine their reaction to a bicycle.

"I attached a basket to my handlebars and brought the cat carrier with me," he explained.

Reaching down, he picked up a small carrier that had been on the floor at his feet, out of my line of sight. Based on its size, Jarvis One was the missing cat. Jarvis Two would have needed a shoehorn.

I secured the bike in the back of the van and drove the short distance to my apartment. I be glad to have those animals gone before the super realized they were inside the building.

"What happened to you hand?" Tony asked.

"Mr. Jarvis. He does not like cars."

"Most cats don't," the kid said philosophically. "I hope you put something on that. Cat scratches can be dangerous."

"Dangerous how?" I asked nervously.

"You know, germs and stuff."

"Right." Germs and stuff. No good deed goes unpunished as Clint is fond of saying. In this case, I devoutly hoped he was wrong. If I got an infection because of that stupid cat, I was not going to be happy.

Tony tensed a little as we started walking into my building a few minutes later. I hated to go against the smart conditioning his parents had put on him, but I was not going to go up there and try to cage that little monster by myself. He had all the skin he was going to get off my body.

I unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door carefully. No blur of gray came running out to greet us.

"Where is he?" Tony demanded.

"I'm not sure. One of them in my bedroom. The other one was hiding behind the couch the last time I saw him."

The kid whipped out a bag of treats. I would not have thought he could have stuffed something that size into the pocket of those shorts.

"Here, Jarvis. Here, Jarvis."

He got down on the floor and rattled the bag. Nothing happened.

"He always comes out for treats," Tony said plaintively.

"He is probably nervous. This is a strange place for him."

I walked over and tugged the couch out from the wall. A gray streak whipped past me to cower behind the potted palm frond near the window.

"It's okay, Jarvis, it's me." Tony walked over toward the plant, and the cat scooted around the chair and took off toward the kitchen.

"That's not Jarvis," Tony said.

"How can you tell?"

He gave me another of those disturbingly adult looks that said plainly what he thought of my inability to distinguish the difference between the picture he had given me and the cat now hiding somewhere in my kitchen.

"Alright," I said, "then it must be the one in the bedroom.|"

Tony had to crawl under the bed with a flashlight to see Jarvis Two. He crawled back out in digust.

"That's not Mr. Jarvis either."

My stomach churned. "Are you certain?"

"Of course I am."

Of course he was. I remember the other gray cat I had seen as I was leaving the park and my heart plunged to meet my roiling stomach. I was going to have to go back to the park.

"We've gotta find him. My uncle's coming for dinner this week. We hav'ta find him before then."

Of course we did. The kid looked ready to cry. I had no idea what to do if he started crying. He looked so upset, I heard myself telling him about the other cat I had seen and agreeing to help him try and find it.

It was those darn eyes of his, I told myself half an hour later as we scoured the park for gray cats. I'm weak for soft eyes like those. But the word had gone out. Avoid the crazy guy at all costs. We did not even see a cat, let alone a gray one.

"I hav'ta go home," Tony told me, looking pathetically discouraged. "My dad's picking me up to do shopping."

He made it sound like a surgical ordeal.

"All right. I will run you home and come back. I can keep looking for a little while longer."

Hope replaced his despair.

"Thanks! You can keep the carrier. I'll take my bike and come to the store as soon as I get back."

Wondering when my brain had turned to fuzz, I agreed and got his bike from the back of the van. "Where do you live Tony?"

"On Broadhurst."

Two street away.

"Perhaps I should concentrate on some of the side street between here and there. He is probably hiding in someone's bushes."

"Okay. Just find him."

"I'll do my best."

Only, after walking four blocks in both directions, I decided to call it quits. The cat could be anywhere. He was probably up some tree laughing at me as I trudged past making kissy noises at the bushes. The day was heating up in an effort to top yesterday, and I was wilting faster than cut flowers left out of water.

As I crossed to my car, I spotted a little gray cat trotting across the parking lot. This one had four white paws. Looking at the picture Tony had given me, I realized the paws did not show. I had forgotten to ask the kid if the cat was all gray. How could I have forgotten something so basic?

The little cat came willingly when I call him Mr. Jarvis. He was much smaller than the other two cats and his hair was not as long, but he was mostly gray and that was good enough for me. He even went into the carrier without a fuss. Elated, I headed to the shop with my prize.

Clint and Natasha had to hear the entire tale once I got back. They fussed over the small cat like a pair of broody hens. Mr. Jarvis seemed to enjoy all the attention – a refreshing change from the first two.

Clint and Natasha sent me down the street to pick up more cat food and litter, even though I explained we would not have him more than a few hours, however when I got back, they were looking at me with the same sort of expression I had come to expect from Tony.

"Didn't you say this cat was called Mr. Jarvis?" Natasha asked.

"Wrong sex." Clint said.

"What?"

"She's a she, and if she's over a year old, it can't be by much."

I groaned. "Are you sure?"

"Positive," Natasha told me. "You'll need to make signs."

"Signs?"

"Well, you can't turn the poor little thing loose on the street," she objected.

"But that is where I found her."

"Use your camera to take her picture and make some Found signs so we can find her owner," Natasha insisted.

There was no arguing with that tone of voice. I went and got my digital camera. I was printing the Found Cat signs when I heard a commotion out front.

"I said you can't go back there! Sir! You can't go back there!"

I did not even have time to get up before a large shape filled the office doorway. Freyja's lover stood framed there. His eyes were a brilliant blue, I discovered, and they could shoot invisible flames. Those flames ignited a heat that started low in my belly and spread outward at an alarming rate.

"What did you do with her?" he demanded

…

**TBC...**


	4. You're who?

******Disclaimer: ******I do not own Avenger or any of its characters.

**A/N: **OMG! It's been toooo looong! Sorry about that. Anyhow, here's a new chap! Enjoy ;]

Chapter 4

Okay, my hormones were thrilled to have such a fantastic looking man standing in my office, but not one is _that_ good looking, and I'm not such a wimp that I cave to my body's hormones. I put on an indignant face and started to get up. The idiotic chair seized the moment of inattention and rolled backward. My head met the wall with an audible thunk.

I lunged forward out of the miserable piece of junk to avoid falling flat on my back along with the chair. Somehow I managed to land on my feet and, with great restraint, kept my hand from rubbing the sore spot on the back of my head. Thank God he did not laugh.

"Tasha, call the authority."

He turned to give Natasha a cold look. "I would not dare if I were you," he said with a quiet firmness that sort of frightened even me.

"Fine," I said with false bravado. "Then, I will call them myself."

His hand covered mine as I reached for the old black rotary dial phone on my desk. Sexual chemistry was well and good, however this was the sort of man I had feel a whole lot safer adoring from afar. With that warm, firm hand swallowing mine, I felt the surge of attraction clear to my toes. A tingle worked its way up my arm from the point of contact and short-circuited my brain.

"You followed us last night," he stated.

The closet-size office shrank away until there was nothing but him and I. My stomach did one of those quick roller coaster dips, and somehow I found my voice even, I pulled my hand out from under his.

"That is quite an ego you carry around," I managed. "But as a pick up line, it is quite original."

I would not have thought his eye could harden any further. I would have been wrong. Adrenaline was sending me all sort of mixed messages. Chief among them was the urge to flee.

He rocked back on his heels to study me. I was suddenly all too conscious that my hair was in its messy curly black hair and both my navy jeans and long light green shirt could have used the help of an iron this morning.

Not that I own an iron or would have been inclined to used it if I had one, but this man made me abruptly, stunningly aware that I was facing the mot fascinating man I had ever seen.

"You told Thanos where she was," he added without inflection.

I wanted to deny that charge, but of course I could not—any more than I could admit that was both drawn to and intimidated by this gorgeous male.

"Go away."

"How does it feel to know you conspired to murder?"

That sent a punch of a whole new sort to my insides.

"Whoa! What do you mean murder? Who is been murdered?" My intestines did a quick roll while my heart rhythm went staccato.

"That is what I'm trying to find out."

Perhaps the bump on my head had scrambled my hearing. I shook my head and focused on his lips.

"Okay, I think we need to back up here," I told him. "Who are you?"

He looked genuinely surprised. "You do not even know that?"

Now that really stung. "I did not bother to run your plate," I admitted. "And that really is some ego you have got."

He might be great eye candy, but I had about it with him and his gibes. He shook his head.

"Thanos must have adored your report if you left my name out. Unless… Of course. You abduct her–convinced her to return back with you as soon as I left."

He had pushed all the right buttons. Now I was furious, as well.

"Get out!"

He placed his hands flat on the desk and leaned in toward me. "Nay, I would not do such thing Mr. Laufeyson. You are to tell me exactly what you have said to Freyja."

I came around the desk to get in his face. Unfortunately I had not taken into consideration the difference in our height. He straightened up. At six feet and four inch, he towered over my six feet one inch frame, giving him the advantage. Unfortunately I was angry enough now not to care. I jabbed a finger in his chest, taking him by surprise.

"You do not come waltzing into my office throwing your weight around. I'm not afraid of you," I lied. "You want to have sex with a married woman, you take the consequences, you oaf."

"Sex? You think we were . . ." He swore.

"Right back at you, brute."

I was quaking inside, but I would die before admitting it. Though I'm licensed to carry a gun, I never do. Guns frightened me – but not nearly as much as he did.

He looked down at my hand, and I realized my finger was still pressed against his crisp white linen shirt. Aware of the scratches, I dropped my hand and fought an urge to take a quick step back. Instead I opened my mouth and more words came tumbling out.

"Why would I think the two of you were having adventurous endeavor?" I asked to cover the flush I could feel stealing up my neck. "Oh, wait. Could it be because you drove the very married Freyja across the state line to some sleazy motel? So sorry. I'm sure it was for an innocent, if illegal, poker game."

His eyes went flat. There was something very scary about the banked anger I read in his expression. I found myself taking that step back after all until my posterior came up against the edge of the desk.

In an instant all that scary anger disappeared. He regarded me with something that looked suspiciously like grudging respect mingled with humor.

"My brother will not be happy to hear you think his motel is sleazy."

My knee felt disturbingly wobbly.

"Your brother?"

"Balder and his wife spend their life's savings into building that 'sleazy' motel."

Oh, boy.

"You are not that least bit frightened of me, are you?"

If he only knew. I swallowed, grateful for thee acting classes I had taken in high school, and tried for a sneer.

"I did not know fear was a requirement."

More of his tension eased. He tipped his hear to regard me. It was all I could do to keep my hand from straying to my hair in a vain attempt to smooth the curls. If only I had gotten up when the alarm clock went off so I could have put gel on, like I usually do when I'm working. It makes me look older and presentable.

He definitely seemed amused now, and I did not like this reaction any better than his anger. Having a gorgeous man regard me with humor is not my idea of a compliment.

"We have strayed from the point," I told him in annoyance. "I would like you to leave."

"Alright. I heard you. _Did _you talk to Freyja and convince her to leave or did Thanos send someone after her?"

"I'm a private investigator you oaf. People pay me for information."

He reached in his hip pocket and produced a leather wallet. Taking some bills from inside, he laid them on the desk and stared at me with a questioning lift of his brows.

That fanned the flames of more anger. "You arrogant –"

I was so furious, I was starting to shake.

"You do not have enough money. Get out of here. I will see you in divorce court. I will be the one pointing a finger at you and telling the judge you are the man who was having the affair with Freya."

"Then you will be lying." He said calmly. "Freya is not my lover, she is my client."

That pricked my anger and filled me with confusion.

"Client?"

He reached into his wallet once more. This time he handed me a small white business card. Not the type I pull off my printer – this one was embossed in bold script. Heat, then cold, swept me as I stared at the name on the card.

"_You're _Thor Odinson?"

"You're not what I expected either," he admitted, "I assumed D. L Laufeyson was an old man."

We stared at each other.

"What is the D. L stand for anyhow?"

"Dangerous when Lied." I was still fuming with anger despite the hollow feeling in my belly.

He grinned. The man was gorgeous even when he was angry, however when he smiled, he was downright lethal. Oh those dimple.. Loki! Stop this instant!

"More like Dumb Loony to me," he said.

My teeth came together with a snap. "I'm not a loony, you imbecile! And absolutely not dumb."

He stared at me. "Looks more like a Liar, then."

My tummy quivered. The desire to melt was incredibly strong. Sternly I took control. This man had taken my client's wife to a motel room only the night before.

"I bet you get far with that puppy-dog look, are you not, Mr. Odinson? Hm.."

His smile invited me to share the humor.

"Generally speaking, yes. It does not seem to work on you though."

If he only knew.

"Everything all right, Lok?" Natasha asked.

I had forgotten all about Natasha and Clint. Apparently they decided I could handle the man and were just checking to be sure their assumption had been correct.

"Fine, Tash. Mr. Odinson was just leaving."

"Lok and I are just getting to know each other," he said at the same time.

"We are not," I said sharply. "I have no desire to know you. And do not call me Lok! It's Loki, you bit dumb oaf!"

Ignoring my insult, he said, "Why not? I'm a nice person and we have many things in common."

"We have nothing in common."

"We are both in the same profession, and this is a small community, after all."

"That is correct, so stay on your side of the river and we will get along just fine."

"Nay, I cannot do that. It appears we're on opposite sides of more than the river at the moment."

"There are no sides. I was hired to do a job and –"

"So was I," he interjected quickly. His features grew serious. "Freyja hired me to protect her from her husband. She has reason to believe he plans to kill her."

The matter-of-fact way he said that sent an icy chill straight up my spine.

"Listen, Loki, you seem like a nice child. I doubt you want something that on your conscience."

Child? He thought I was a child?

I pictured Hogan Delvecchi and tried not to shudder. Was it possible? Had I been used to set the woman up to be killed?

"She was not at the motel when I went to pick her up this morning." Thor continued. "No one saw her leave and she is not answering her call phone. What happened?"

"Look, Mr. Odinson –"

"Thor."

"Mr. Odinson," I said firmly, "I do not know what sort of ethics you have, but my job demands client confidentiality."

His expression hardened once more.

"I hope your ethics give you comfort when they find her body."

"You are not laying that at my door. I'm not the one she hired for protection. You are the one who left her alone in the middle of nowhere without a car."

He turned without a word and strode through the door.

"I will tell you this much," I called after his back, "I never spoke with Freya."

He did not break stride or say a word, but I gave him points for inclining his head to acknowledge Natasha and Clint as he passed. Clint gaped, standing there holding a tulip in one hand. Neither of them spoke as he strode out of the shop.

"Well," Clint said after a minute, sticking the flower into the arrangement in front of him. "Who's the stud?"

I leaned back against the door frame. My knees threatened to buckle at any moment.

"Thor Odinson."

"Oh, my," Natasha murmured.

Clint grinned. "Cool. I didn't realize he was such a looker. That one is definitely a keeper. Much better than your usual sort."

"Are you out of your mind?" I demanded. "I do not even like him."

He raised a single eyebrow. "Loki, all those sparks flying around in that itty-bitty office practically blinded me."

"What you saw was sheer rage on his part," I told him.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that, and certainly not on your part," he said provocatively.

"Clint," Natasha chastised.

Clint looked unrepentant. "Tash, even you have to admit that man could inspire sparks in any human corpse."

"If he was not such a jerk and a moron," I inserted. "Emphasis on the _jerk_, Clint. He has an ego the size of Colorado. Besides, pretty boy are not my type."

"Loki, that was no boy, and I'd say he's every breathing human being's type."

"Clint!" Natasha protested. "Leave Loki alone. We need to get this arrangement finished. Lok, we have five orders that have to go out this afternoon – are you free to make deliveries?"

"Of course," I said absently, still fretting over my conversation with Thor. "I'm not in the mood to hunt cats again in this heat."

"Now, Lok, you mustn't give up. You'll find him," she replied. "I have faith. And I wouldn't worry about what that Mr. Odinson told you. I'm sure Mr. Thanos isn't going to kill his wife."

No, he had probably have Delvecchi take care of that detail for him, I thought sourly.

"Are you kidding?" Clint exclaimed. "I keep telling you that man has mob ties. If he wants her dead, she's dead."

"No one is going to die," I said with more force than it felt.

"Of course not," Natasha agreed. "And anyhow, it wouldn't be your fault. Like you told Mr. Odinson, if anyone screwed up, it was him. He's the one she hired for protection."

That did not make me feel any better.

I knew when I had decided to use the flower shop as my base that privacy was something I have little of, but while Natasha and Clint loved to gossip, we had an agreement that my cases were to stay private. I sincerely hoped they had honor that promise.

I stewed over the scene with the sexy Thor Odinson all afternoon as I delivered flowers to business offices and happy homemakers. Normally I enjoy seeing a person's reaction to receiving flowers, but today was hardly normal.

Once I finished my deliveries, I drove up and down the side streets near Tony's looking for cats. They, however, were not stupid enough to be wandering around in this heat. I did not blame them, but I was starting to worry about Mr. Jarvis. Tony had said the cat was old. It was really, really hot outside and we did not have rain in weeks. Would the poor little thing be able to find water? Would he be able to find food? I know hunting is supposed to be a natural instinct, but if the poor old feline was used to humans providing everything in a dish, how would he manage? Do cats get Alzheimer's? While I was heartily sick of looking for the little beast, I had felt awful if something bad happened before I found him.

Reluctantly I stopped at the park and got out for a quick look around. The only animal in sight was the flock of geese that had taken over the ball field. As they were bigger than most cats, I figured wandering in that direction was a waste of time and a pair of good shoes. Other than some small children playing on the playground under the weary eyes of their mothers, the rest of Lakewood was crammed into the sun baked pool, noisily trying to cool off.

By the time I got back to the shop, my shirt clung like an unpleasant additional layer of skin and my forehead was dripping sweat. For some stupid reason I could not stop thinking about a pair of flashing blue eyes and the gorgeous face that went with them. Why could not Thor Odinson have been some seedy middle-aged man with a receding hairline and love handles?

Clint was waiting on a customer. Natasha was in the office, on the telephone, with the shop ledger spread in front of her. I scooped up my portable computer and wiggled my fingers to let her know I was leaving when my cell phone rang. Setting the computer on the workstation, I answered the summons, half hoping it would not be another job. I was tired. But at the same time, for the sake of my bank account, I half hoped it _would _be a new client. Even an old one.

"D. L Laufeyson."

"Mr. Laufeyson, this is Thanos. I wanted to thank you personally for a job well done."

"Uh –"

"You may be called on to testify on my behalf in the divorce settlement. If that happens, suitable recompense will, of course, be given. I was foolish not to insist on a prenuptial agreement. I'm afraid it's going to be an ugly divorce. My wife appeared in my office this afternoon and created a most embarrassing scene in front of my staff over those photographs you took."

"She did?"

Freya was not dead. She was not even hurt. And instead of sounding angry, her husband sounded genuinely embarrassed. My relief was amazing.

"She claims she's been trying to break off her relationship with Mr. Odinson for weeks now," he went on.

Shocked, I stared at an African violet sitting out on the counter in the back room for some reason. Thanos knew who Thor was. And Freyja had admitted to have an affair with him. I pushed aside a pang of regret. The pretty boy had lied to me.

"Freya claims Odinson threatened her," Thanos continued. "I don't believe that, of course, but it makes no difference. The point is, thanks to you, I have sufficient physical proof to meet with my lawyer this evening. I want you to know I appreciate your diligence. I will be happy to pass your name along to my colleagues, should they ever require the services of an investigator."

"Thank –"

"And, of course, there will be an additional bonus for you once the divorce goes through. Again thank you."

"Oh, it was my . . . pleasure," I added to the dead line.

Mr. Tanos had said his piece and disconnected. Okay by me. His wife was alive. He was pleased with my work. He had offered to pass along my name to his wealthy friends. Life was good.

Something brushed against my leg. Startled, I yelped out loud as I looked down to find the small gray cat rubbing up against me. I was in such a good mood, I even bent down to stroke her furry head. Instantly she began to purr.

"You have a loud purr for such a little thing, you know that, cat?"

"Hey Lok, I'm glad you're still here," Natasha said. "Did you remember to hang the Found signs for Annabelle?"

I blinked at my friend in surprise. "You name the cat Annabelle? You do know that there is a movie that called Annabelle, correct? And it is creepy for a name, if you asked me."

"Loki, it's just a name and besides we can't just call her 'cat'."

"Why not?"

Natasha gave me one of those speaking looks, and I managed a meek shrug.

"You could keep her," I suggested.

"Absolutely not. Clem would not take kindly to a cat. Besides, someone must be missing this sweet little girl, right, Belle?"

Annabelle immediately left my side to rub against my friend. Natasha opened the workstation drawer and pulled out a bag of kitty treats. Annabelle scarfed down the offering as if she was starving.

"Your young man was in again while you were out."

"Thor came back?"

Natasha got a peculiar look on her face.

"No. I believe his name is Tony. A very bright, polite young man, but he's quite discouraged. I do hope you'll find his cat soon."

I did not like the newly speculative look on my friend's face. I had just made a big blunder and I knew it. What on earth had made me think she was talking about Thor? It was understandable that the big idiotic man would be on my mind after the way he had scared me with that drivel about being responsible for the woman's death but nevertheless. . .

"I'm trying to find Tony's cat, Tash. I just came back from looking at the park some more. Do you think one of these miserable animals would be the right one? I mean, how many gray cats can be running around loose in Lakewood? The place is not big enough."

She handed me the leaflets with Annabelle's picture. "Here. Just post it. Okay."

One does not argue with Natasha when she gets that expression. I was hot and sweaty all over again by the time I finished hanging the signs around the neighborhood where I had picked up Annabelle. When I finished, I thought about stopping by my dad's place and sharing a meal with him, but frankly I was too hot to eat. I decided to go home, pop some microwave popcorn, open a cola and try to figure out how to remove the other two animals from my apartment without getting caught.

Since I was pretty sure the animal shelter closed by six that meant they have to spend another night in my apartment. The thought was depressing. Perhaps that is why my subconscious decided I should drop by Thor Odinson's office on my way home.

I found myself crossing the bridge into Rocky River before I could really think things through. Still, why not? Turn about only seemed fair. If he could burst into my office, I could reciprocate to let him know his client was not dead and I knew him for a fast-talking liar. Besides, I was dying to see his office.

I hate to admit I'm so mean spirited, but I was glad I made the decision. His office was a small hole-in-the-wall squished between storefronts – much smaller than Natasha's flower shop. On the other hand, he did not have to share space with anyone, so his name was prominently displayed on the front door.

No one sat at the scuffed teak desk in what proved be outer office. A phone, a pad of paper, some pens, and an older model computer were the desk's only adornment. There were four mismatched chairs scattered around, but no plants, no photographs – nothing t break up the plain, bare, institutional white walls.

Thor emerged from the inner office almost immediately and filled the doorway between the two rooms. Seeing him again, my stomach took on a funny fluttery feeling I have not had since the first time a boy asked me out.

"You could use a decorator," I told him.

He did not smile. "My sister-in-law agrees with you."

So much for small talk. "She is not dead," I told him without further preamble.

He leaned back against the door frame and crossed his legs at the ankle. The casual pose should not have troubled me in any way at all.

"And you know this because . . . ?"

"Thanos phoned to thank me. Your client made a big scene in his office this afternoon. She claims you threatened her when she tried to break off your affair."

"What!"

He came off the door frame so fast, I did not have time to do more than flinch. For a big guy he can move so swiftly. Fear sent my heart slamming against my rib cage as he spanned the distance between us to loom over me with a ferocious look that left me quaking inside. Why had I thought coming here to gloat was a good idea?

"Tell me exactly what he said," Thor demanded from between clenched teeth.

I took a step back and wondered if I could reach the door before he did.

"Every word, Loki."

I tried not to let him see I was intimidated even as I proceeded to tell him what Thanos had said. Because I was watching him the way a mouse watches a bird of prey, I saw the shock and anger in his expression before his face turned impassive.

"He lied," Thor said flatly.

At least he had not said _I_ was lying.

"No, his not lying."

His eyes narrowed.

"Listen, he sounded pretty embarrassed by the whole situation."

"Then why would he tell you about it?"

"He was upset. I think he was sort of thinking out loud. Perhaps he was trying to warn me."

"About what?"

I shrugged and shifted, trying to inch my way toward the door without being obvious. "That it's going to be a messy divorce?" I replied, not liking the uncertain tone in my voice.

Thor shook his head. "Nay, a man like Thanos does not marry a much younger woman like Freyja without ulterior motives. He is setting you up."

I blinked at his flat tone. "How?" I asked, truly curious.

Thor rubbed a hand across his jaw. "I do not know. This makes no sense. Why would Freyja lie?" he enunciated carefully.

Perhaps it was naïve, but I wanted to believe him.

"In that case, you are the one who is being set up. Has it occurred to you that maybe there is a boyfriend? Perhaps Freyja wanted her husband to go after someone else in his place?"

He exhaled through his nose as he thought about that.

"According to you," he said slowly, "Thanos is not coming after me. He is filing for divorce."

"And if she is using you to obtain it, there must be a reason."

We both fell silent. He looked tired, I realized, as he rubbed absently at his left shoulder. Those striking blue eyes were clouded in thought. Frown line marred his forehead. And why was I noticing he had the sort of long, curling eyelashes I'd kill for?

"Have you eaten dinner yet?"

His question caught me unprepared. My heart stuttered with a flash of instant excitement that I quickly suppressed.

"No."

"The Aesir is only a couple doors away. The place has decent food. I missed lunch and breakfast and I think we need to talk."

I had to quell a sure of inappropriate disappointment. He was not asking me on a date. He just wanted to pump me for information while he ate.

So what? Sitting across from Thor Odinson beat eating popcorn in front of the television set, no matter what questions he wanted to ask. Nothing said I had to answer those questions.

"All right."

"Let me shut down my computer."

I followed him into his inner sanctum without an invitation. Like the outer office, the room was starkly impersonal but a whole lot messier. Papers and files covered his desk. Empty Styrofoam cups that had once held coffee were interspersed with fast-food wrappers and an old pizza box.

As if embarrassed, he gathered up the trash quickly and tossed it out of sight in a wastebasket next to his desk. I knew he had been here seven months at least, but the room felt so bare other than the clutter that it looked as if he had just moved in.

His desk was twin to the one in the outer office and looked well used. A pair of slightly battered, matching teak filing cabinets rested against a blank wall while one of those all-in-one-printer-fax-copier machines perched on a bookcase beside them. Another older-model computer sat on a stand beside his desk, but it was not even plugged in. he had a slim portable computer open on his desk. I had the exact same model out in my car.

From my angle I could not see what was on the screen, so I scanned the papers spread across his desk. When he saw me craning to look, he immediately scooped them into a folder. But not before I saw that they were official police reports.

What was Thor Odinson doing with official reports on what appeared to be a murder investigation?

"Big case?" I asked, trying for nonchalance.

"No, it's personal." He said, without even using the Nay word.

Had I not known he had got all the good cases because he was the son of some known Detective? Life was not fair. At all.

Not surprisingly, they knew him at the restaurant. He flirted easily with the pretty hostess and greeted the young waiter by name. Thor ordered mead and a steak dinner. Wait! A mead? Is this even possible? Who order mead in this kind of year? Does he think he's some sort of a Viking or Norse god? Anyway, since this was not a date and whatever I ate I have to pay for, I settled for a glass of water and a grilled chicken salad.

Walking to the restaurant with him, I had time to think. Despite his assertions, Thor and Freyja had seemed pretty cozy inside that piano bar. They had also been inside that motel room long enough to be a lot closer than a client and her protector, even if it had been a quickie. Still, somehow it did not add up.

"I'm not what you are thinking," he said as he raised his mead to take a sip of the foamy brew.

I had no trouble following that statement. "Reading minds now? In a way, that is too bad. If you are going to have to face the consequences, you should at least have had the fun of an affair."

He set the mead down carefully. I could see I had shocked him. That made me feels better and settled back into the booth more comfortably.

"She is an attractive woman," I added.

"And you are an attractive man, but I do not sleep with any human being just because they are attractive."

My stomach leaped into free fall. He thought I was attractive?

"Your business," I said, trying to sound blasé, "but if I were you. I'd watching over my shoulder. Based on the rumors I have heard, Thanos is not the type to sit back and let the world know he is been cuckolded without getting a little of his own back. It does not matter if you are innocent if he believes you are guilty. There is a man who works for him that looks like he could break you in half without even working up a sweat."

"Hogan Delvecchi," he said with a scowl.

"You have met him?"

"Not yet."

"Trust me, you do not want to. The way I figure it, if you two were not having a go, the only reason Freyja would name you her lover is so her husband would not damage the real one."

"Pleasant thought."

A slight tic near his left temple was the only sign he was actually worried.

"Whose idea was it to drive all the way into Pennsylvania?" I asked.

"Mine. Freyja told me she was afraid of her husband. She wanted a place to hide where he would not find her. How sure are you that Thanos told you the truth?"

I had time to mull that over as our food arrived. I waited for the waiter to leave before I answered him.

"Why would Thanos lie to me? His story would be easy enough to check out. He said his staff heard the whole thing. Be pretty hard to get an entire group of people to lie about something like that, don't you agree?"

He cut into his steak. The aroma made me drool, so I plunged my fork into my generous salad.

"You said you tried calling her?" I added.

"She is not answering her phones and she has not returned any of my messages."

"Big surprise there," I said, forking up a large piece of lightly breaded chicken. "If I was setting some guy up to take a pounding, I would not be answering his call either."

The round of dark rye bread they had brought with the meal was fresh and warm and perfect, I discovered after cutting off a generous hunk. I'm a confirmed carbohydrate junkie, and that bread was worth every calorie.

As I chewed blissfully, I realized Thor was watching me with the sort of fascination that made me aware of just how much I savored every bite. I set the bread down self-consciously.

"Would you like to try a bit of my steak?" he offered.

There was nothing sensual in the question, but the low voiced delivery left me quivering on the inside.

"No, thank you." I could feel the pink staining my cheeks. "I enjoy fresh bread."

"Yes, you do. I will have to remember that."

I tamped down a rolling surge of lust, wishing I could control my blush as easily.

"What are you doing here, Thor?" asked the women with blond hair.

"Having dinner with an enchanting man." He replied.

"Right. So, see you around." The women leave with a wink.

So much for warm fuzzies.

"You can't help yourself, can you? You have to flirt with every living thing you meet."

"Not every living thing."

I set down my fork with more of a clatter than was really necessary.

"Stick a sock in it, Odinson. I'm not interested in being part of a crowd. Did you ever think perhaps that is why Freyja chose you?"

All hint of humor fled those brilliant blue eyes. I will give him credit—Thor did not let a little thing like hurt pride stop him from thinking through what I had said. He set his own knife and fork down more carefully and regarded me.

"You could be right."

All right, so perhaps the words did not give me warm _fuzzies_, but his response was not what I would have expected and I found myself warming to him all over again.

"One of them was lying to us," he said.

"Really, that's what you think?"

He ignored the sarcasm. "I will check it out—see if that scene really did take place in his office."

"And you will watch your back?"

"Unless you are offering to do it for me."

I sucked in a breath as another wave of instant lust hit me. Watching his back or any other part of him would be no hardship at all.

"Sure. For a fee," I said primly. "I do not normally take on bodyguard cases, but it never hurts to diversify."

His grin melted my socks.

"Your looks really are deceiving."

I bristled. "How am I supposed to take that comment?"

"As a compliment, Loki. You look about twenty. Bright, cheerful—"

"If you say _bubbly_ I'm going to have to stab you with your steak knife."

I felt his laughter like warm brandy sliding across my skin. Two women turned to look our way. I tried not to appear self-satisfied, but I did want to preen a bit. After all, it was not every day I sat down with a man who looked as gorgeous as Thor Odinson.

"Listen," he said turning serious. "You have live around here most of your life, right? If you will ask around, I will do the same and we will compare our information before one of us ends in deep pop tart."

"Is that a real word?"

"Pop Tart? Of course. Actually it is a sweet treat snacks. My friend, give some of it and it was very deli—"

"Hold it. That is more than I want to know. You have actually liked it?"

He shrugged lightly. "My friend introduces it to me. Well, I cannot refuse such blessing."

I picked up my fork and plowed back into my salad wondering who the "we" referred to and whether I had look too interested in him personally if I asked.

"Well, pop tart is a sort of sweet, and I'm a big fan of sweet treats." I said around of mouthful of raw lettuce.

He lifted his fork and steak knife and smiled. "Something else we have in common. Do we have a deal?"

I could not see how asking Natasha and Clint a few questions about Thanos and his wife and relaying there answers to Thor could hurt, so I nodded and reached for another slice of bread.

We finished the meal in companionable silence and both opted to pass on dessert and coffee. When the check came, I pulled out my wallet.

"It's my treat," Thor offered.

Given the current state of my bank balance, I was sorely tempted, however, this had not been a date and I really did not want to find myself in debt to him, even over something as simple as a meal. I handed him a twenty, and after a second, he took it, checked the bill and made change from a wallet a whole lot thicker than mine.

"Come now, I will walk you to your car," he offered.

"I can make it across the parking lot."

"You are a prickly little thing, are you not?"

"I'm not little. You are just supersized. What I am is careful," I corrected. "If I'm right, Delvecchi or someone like him is out there somewhere just waiting for a chance to beat you to a pulp."

"Then perhaps you should walk me to my car—for a fee, of course."

My stomach took a quick dip at the intense way he was looking at me.

"How much?" he demanded.

"What?"

"How much would you charge to walk me to my car?"

My heart started hammering way too fast. He was teasing of course, but there was an intensity in his expression that was making it hard to think of anything beyond the fact that I had give quite a lot to find out what it was like to kiss that tempting mouth.

"What are you doing a week form Saturday?"

I heard the question tumbling past my lips too late to call the words back. His eyes sort of darkened before humor set them to sparkling again.

"What is a week from Saturday?"

There was no way out now. I had to tell him the rest.

"A friend of mine is getting married."

"_You_ need a date?"

The way he phrased it went a long way toward salving my pride. Not _You need a date because you are too unattractive to get one?_ But _Why on earth would someone like you need a date? _He was good. Better than good.

"I'd prefer not spending the entire evening listening to a discourse on the Browns' chances for next season."

I had put off asking my ex to take me for that very reason. Thor laughed out loud. Someone should bottle that laugh. They would make a fortune selling that rich sound.

"You would rather hear about the Pittsburgh Steelers' chances?"

"Only if you have a death wish," I told him smartly.

His chuckle was almost as good as his laugh.

"Look, there is another reason I brought it up. A lot of people will be there. It's an opportunity for us to ask some discreet questions. People in this town talk, and the Thanos generate a lot of gossip. One of the bride's sisters knows a clerk in the mayor's office. Thanos got connections there."

It sounded weak even to me, but Thor nodded seriously.

"Then it's a deal. Come guard my back," he invited. "My car's over here."

I manage to keep pace with his much longer legs only because he shortened his stride to accommodate me. I found myself actually peering around the parking lot as evening stole across the sky. His burgundy Honda was only a few rows away from where I had left my car.

"Thank you," he said seriously.

"I should be probably follow you home."

What was I saying?

His smile did warm, disturbing things to my nerve endings.

"I do not think that will be necessary. I will give you a call later."

"You do not have my number."

His easy grin warmed my insides.

"I'm a detective. I will find it."

For one very brief second I thought he was going to lean down and kiss me. The bump to my heart rate and the roll in my abdomen left me breathless, but he just squeezed my upper arm gently and climbed into his car.

I'm not sure, but I think I floated the rest of the way home. The most gorgeous man in Ohio was taking me to my friend's wedding. My friends would die.

I was practically giddy—until I saw what was waiting for me inside my apartment.

TBC…


End file.
